THE WGDDS 




DOUGLAS MALLOCH 




Class P 5 ;^ s z r 



Book 



Copyright]^". 






COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: 



THE V/OODS 



DOUGLAS MALLOCH 



THE 
WOODS 



BY 



DOUGLAS MALLOCH 

AUTHOR OF "IN FOREST LAND " 



NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






Copyright, 1913, 
By GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



/.^ 



©CI.A850549 



To 
MY SON DOUGLAS 

1902-1909 



CONTENTS 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Possession , . ii 

When the Geese Come North .... 13 

Spring Fever 14 

March 16 

Children of the Spring 17 

"Life" . 20 

The Passenger Pigeons 22 

June 24 

The Bigger Thing . 26 

The Chickadee 28 

Jim 29 

Settin' in the Sun 35 

The Pine-Tree Flag 37 

Inspiration 40 

To a Caged Bird 44 

The Chickamauga Oak 45 

Summertime 49 

Contrast 51 

Rain 53 

Down Grade 62 

Unknown 65 

The Irish 67 

The Path 70 

The Mystery 73 

[7] 



CONTENTS 



Page 

The Playground 78 

The Swamper 81 

Ashes ; . 84 

Sunrise 86 

The Wanderers 88 

Sylvia 90 

The Imitators 92 

The Soul 93 

Leisure 97 

The Sky Pilot 99 

The Call of the Woods loi 

Brothers and Sons . 103 

The Snow Is Here 106 

The Letter no 

Success 115 

Moonrise 116 

My Man an' Me 117 

Back on the Job 120 

The Sport 123 

The Code 126 

Memories . 127 

To-day 130 

You 132 

The City 134 



[8] 



THE WOODS 



THE WOODS 



T 



POSSESSION 

HERE'S some of us has this world's goods, 

An' some of us has none — 
But all of us has got the woods. 

An' all has got the sun. 
So, settin' here upon the stoop. 

This patch o' pine beside, 
I never care a single whoop — 

Fer I am satisfied. 

Now, take the pine on yonder hill : 

It don't belong to me; 
The boss he owns the timber — still, 

It's there fer me to see. 
An', 'twixt the ownin' of the same 

An' smellin' of its smell, 
I've got the best of that there game. 

An' so I'm feelin' well. 



[II] 



THE WOODS 



POSSESSION (continued) 

The boss in town unrolls a map 

An' proudly says, " It's mine." 
But he don't drink no maple sap 

An' he don't smell no pine. 
The boss in town he figgers lands 

In quarter-sections red; 
Lord ! I just set with folded hands 

An' breathe 'em in instead. 

The boss his forest wealth kin read 

In cent an' dollar sign; 
His name is written in the deed — 

But all his land is mine. 
There's some of us has this world's goods, 

An' some of us has none — 
But all of us has got the woods. 

An' all has got the sun! 



[12] 



THE WOODS 



WHEN THE GEESE COME NORTH 



T 



HEIR faint " honk-honk " announces them, 
The geese when they come flying north; 

Above the far horizon's hem 

From out the south they issue forth. 

They weave their figures in the sky. 
They write their name upon its dome. 

And, o'er and o'er, we hear them cry 
Their cry of gladness and of home. 

Now lakes shall loose their icy hold 
Upon the banks, and crocus bloom; 

The sun shall warm the river's cold 

And pierce the Winter's armored gloom; 

The vines upon the oaken tree 

Shall shake their wavy tresses forth, 

The grass shall wake, the rill go free — 
For, see ! The geese are flying north ! 



[13] 



THE WOODS 



N 



SPRING FEVER 

OT exactly lazy — 

Yet I want to sit 
In the momin' hazy 

An* jest dream a bit. 
Haven't got ambition 

Fer a single thing — 
Regaler condition 

Ev'ry bloomin' Spring. 

Want to sleep at noontime 

(Ought to work instead), 
But along at moontime 

Hate to go to bed. , 
Find myself a-stealin* 

Fer a sunny spot — 
Jest that Springy feelin'. 

That is what I've got. 



[14] 



THE WOODS 



SPRING FEVER (continued) 

Like to set a-wishin' 

Fer a pipe an' book. 
Like to go a-fishin' 

In a meadow-brook 
With some fish deceiver, 

Underneath a tree — 
Jest the old Spring fever. 

That's what's ailing me! 



[15] 



THE WOODS 



I 



MARCH 

N what a travail is our Springtime bom! — 

'Mid leaden skies and garmenture of gloom. 

Wild waves of cloud the drifting stars con- 
sume 
And shipless seas of heaven greet the morn. 
The forest trees stand sad and tempest-torn, 

Memorials of Summer's ended bloom ; 
For unto March, the sister most forlorn, 

No roses come her pathway to illume. 
Yet 'tis the month the Winter northward flies 

With one last trumpeting of savage might. 
Now stirs the earth of green that underlies 

This other earth enwrapped in garb of 
white. 
And while poor March, grown weary, droops 

and dies 
The little Springtime opens wide its eyes. 



[i6] 



THE WOODS 



CHILDREN OF THE SPRING 



W 



HAT means the Spring to you? — 
The tree, the bloom, the grass; 

Wide fields to wander through; 
A primrose path to pass; 

Bright sun, and skies of blue; 

The songs of singing streams; 

The rippling riverside 
Awakening from dreams; 

Fair-browed and azure-eyed — 
Oh, thus the Springtime seems. 

Yet not for such as you 

She comes with song and voice, 
'Tis not for such as you 

She makes the heart rejoice. 
She comes with skies of blue. 



[17] 



THE WOODS 



CHILDREN OF THE SPRING (continued) 

Spring's children are the ill — 
'Tis these she comes to cheer ; 

Upon the window-sill. 
Within the chamber drear. 

She sits her song to trill. 

On narrow cots they lie 

Within the quiet room, 
Their sky a square of sky 

Cut from the inner gloom, 
From dreary walls and high. 

Spring means so much to these, 

The prisoners abed ! — 
The perfume of the breeze. 

The birdsong overhead. 
The echoed melodies. 

The window open wide — 
Behold, the Spring is here ! 

No more the countryside 
Is dim and dark and drear; 

Now stronger runs the tide. 



THE WOODS 



CHILDREN OF THE SPRING (continued) 

The pale and patient wife, 
Her babe upon her breast. 

Forgets the night, the knife. 
And sleeps the sleep of rest. 

Awakening to life. 

The old, the very old. 

Behold in budding Spring 

Another year unfold — 
And life, a tinsel thing. 

Is turned again to gold. 

And e'en the empty cot, 

Whose Spring has come too late. 

The one who now is not, 
The one who could not wait. 

The Spring has not forgot. 

For, see! the Springtime stands 
Our drooping eyes to raise 

To fair and shining strands; 
The Springtime comes and lays 

A lily in his hands. 

U9] 



THE WOODS 



" LIFE " 

T\ TAN, thrust upon the world, awakes from 
^^■^ sleep. 

Knowing not whence he came nor how 

nor why. 
His earliest impulse is an infant cry. 
His final privilege is that to weep. 

A combatant although he sought no 
strife, 
A guest unwelcome come unwillingly, 
Given his vision that he may not see, 

He names this unnamed paradox his life. 

He learns to walk the forest and to love 
Its green and brown, its song and sea- 
son's change, 
Yet will not taste a berry that is 
strange 
Or tread a pathway that he knows not of. 



[20] 



THE WOODS 



" LIFE " (continued) 

Skeptic and doubter of the flow'r and 
tree, 
He questions this and that investi- 
gates — 
Yet drinks the beaker offered by the 
fates 
And leaves unsolved the greater mystery. 



[21] 



THE WOODS 



THE PASSENGER PIGEONS 

\1I7HERE roam ye now, ye nomads of the 
* ^ air. 

The old-time heralds o£ our old-time 

Springs? 
Once, when we heard the thunder of 
your wings, 
We looked upon the world — and Spring 
was there. 

One time your armies swept across the 
sky, 
Your feathered millions in a mighty 

march 
Filling with life and music all the arch 
Where now a lonely swallow flutters by. 



[22] 



THE WOODS 



THE PASSENGER PIGEONS (continued) 

Where roam ye now, ye nomads of the 
air? 
In what far land? What undiscovered 

place ? 
Ye may have found the refuge of the 
race 
That mortals visit but in dream and 
prayer. 

Perhaps in some blest land ye wing your 
flight, 
Now undisturbed by murder and by 

greed, 
And there await the coming of the 
freed 
Who shall emerge, like ye, from earth and 
night. 



[23] 



THE WOODS 



JUNE 

¥ KNEW that you were coming, June, I knew 
"*• that you were coming! 
Among the alders by the stream I heard a 

partridge drumming; 
I heard a partridge drumming, June, a wel- 
come with his wings, 
And felt a softness in the air half Summer's 
and half Spring's. 

I knew that you were nearing, June, I knew 

that you were nearing — 
I saw it in the bursting buds of roses in the 

clearing ; 
The roses in the clearing, June, were blushing 

pink and red, 
For they had heard upon the hills the echo of 

your tread. 



[24] 



THE WOODS 



JUNE (continued) 

I knew that you were coming, June, I knew 

that you were coming, 
For ev'ry warbler in the wood a song o£ joy 

was humming. 
I know that you are here, June, I know that 

you are here — 
The fairy month, the merry month, the 

laughter of the year! 



[25] 



THE WOODS 



THE BIGGER THING 

TEST yesterday I watched an ant 
^ A-totin' in the summer sun; 
I saw him puff an' pull an' pant 

With little burdens, one by one. 
A wisp of straw acrost his way 

Once kept him busy fer an hour, 
An' ant-miles long he walked that day 

To git around a bloomin' flower. 
The sand he carried grain by grain — 

Great boulders thet he had to lift — 
An', with his engineerin' brain, 

He sunk his shaft an' run his drift. 
An' then at night a Bigger Thing, 

To which the Little Thing must kneel, 
Creation's self-appointed king, 

Wiped out the anthill with its heel. 



[26] 



THE WOODS 



THE BIGGER THING (continued) 

O self-made boss of things thet creep 

An' walk an' fly, an' yet are mute, 
When I consider how you keep 

Your kingdom of the bird an* brute, 
When I consider how you speak 
Your will among the smaller folk 
An* send your message to the weak 

In flyin' lead an' flamin' smoke. 
When I consider how you stalk 

The quiet wood with evil breath 
An* leave behind you, as you walk, 
A path of pain an' trail of death, 
I wonder how 'twould seem to you. 
The silent people's lord an' king, 
To tremble when you heard it, too — 
The comin' of some Bigger Thing? 



[27] 



THE WOODS 



T 



THE CHICKADEE 

HERE'S somethin' 'bout the chickadee 

Thet's, somehow, awful cheerin' ; 
Around the shanty door it bums 
An' gethers up the crusts an' crumbs 
Cook scatters in the clearin'. 

It gethers up the crusts an' crumbs 

An' jest as glad it chatters 
As if it fed on biscuit fine 
All soaked in milk er dipped in wine 

An' served on silver platters. 

My share of life is crusts an' crumbs 

I find somehow er other; 
An' how I wish thet I could be 
Like you are, Mr. Chickadee, 

My cheerful little brother ! 



[28] 



THE WOODS 



JIM 

TF you go to the lake 

An' you follow the road 
As it turns to the west 
Of the mill 
Till you come to a stake 
A surveyor has throwed 
Like a knife in the breast 
Of the hill, 
An' you follow the track 
Till you come to a blaze 
By the side of the same 
In a limb. 
You will light on the shack, 
In the timber a ways, 
Of a party whose name 
It is Jim. 



[29] 



THE WOODS 



JIM (continued) 



In a day that is flown, 

'Mid the great an' the grand. 
In a time when his hair 
Wasn't gray. 
He was commonly known 
By a fancier brand 
In a city back there. 
So they say. 
But it's Jim, only Jim, 

Is the name thet he gives, 
When you happen to bring 
Up the same; 
It is plenty fer him 

In the woods where he lives, 
Fer the man is the thing. 
Not the name. 



[30] 



THE WOODS 



JIM (continued) 



By the gleam of his eye 
Thet is steady an' clear, 
By the way he will look 
At you square, 
You will know thet they lie 
Who would make it appear 
He was maybe a crook 
Over there. 
In the church I have stood — 
Heard of preachin' a lot 
Thet I never could much 
Understand ; 
An' yet never the good 
From a sermon I got 
Thet I got from a clutch 
Of his hand. 



[31] 



THE WOODS 



JIM (continued) 



I have half an idee 
Thet, if back you could turn 
To the start of the trail 
Fer a spell, 
Thet a woman you'd see, 
Thet a lot you would learn - 
Thet the regaler tale 
It would tell 
Of a fellah too fond. 
Of a woman too weak. 
Of another who came 
To her door — 
Then an endless beyond, 
Lips thet never must speak, 
An' a man but a name 
Evermore. 



[32] 



THE WOODS 



JIM (continued) 



If you go to the town 
An' you follow the street. 
By the glitter an' glow 
Of the light. 
To a mansion of brown 
Where the music is sweet 
An' the lute whispers low 
To the night. 
In the dark of a room 
At the end of a hall, 

Where the visions of old 
Flutter in. 
There she sets in the gloom. 
She, the Cause of it all. 
In the midst of her gold 
An' her sin. 



[33] 



THE WOODS 



JIM (continued) 



If you go to the lake 
An' you follow the road 
As it turns to the west 
Of the mill 
Till you come to a stake 
A surveyor has throwed 
Like a knife in the breast 
Of the hill, 
An' you follow the track 
Till you come to a blaze 
By the side of the same 
In a limb, 
You will light on the shack. 
In the timber a ways, 
Of a party whose name 
It is Jim. 



[34] 



THE WOODS 



I 



SETTIN' IN THE SUN 

RECKON the party who sets on a throne 

Has a perfectly miser'ble time ; 
There always is someone a-pickin' a bone 

With a king or a monarch sublime. 
Some calculate maybe that bein' a king 
Is a job that is gen'ally fun — 
Well, well, it may be, 
But the best thing, to me, 
Is jest settin' right here in the sun. 

I reckon the party who sets in the chair. 

In the President's chair, an' all that, 
Must tote on his person consider'ble care 

An' a passel of woe in his hat. 
Some calculate maybe it's fun to be boss 
Or even for office to run — 
Well, that may be so. 
But the best thing I know 
Is jest settin' right here in the sun. 



[35] 



THE WOODS 



SETTIN' IN THE SUN (continued) 

I reckon the party who sets up on high 

He may wish for a moment that's calm. 
It's awful to set there an' find by-an'-by 

That you've done gone an' set on a bomb. 
I calculate, if they should blow up a king, 
In spite of the good he has done, 
Nary king he will be; 
But me, as for me, 
I'll be settin' right here in the sun. 



[36] 



THE WOODS 



THE PINE-TREE FLAG 

/^UR woodsbred northern women (There 
^^ were no weaklings there: 

Maine, Hampshire, Massachusetts, Ver- 
mont, their glory share; 
They were New England women, as brave 
as they were fair) — 

Our woodsbred northern women (They 
sent their sires and sons, 

The husbands of their bosoms, their well- 
beloved ones. 

To dare the foeman's anger and to face the 
foeman's guns) — 

Our woodsbred northern women (whose 

men went forth to war) 
Wove 'mid the woods a banner their bairns 

and brothers bore. 
Wove 'mid the woods a banner to carry on 

before. 

[37I 



THE WOODS 



THE PINE-TREE FLAG (continued) 

Our woodsbred northern women wove not 
in red or gold ; 

There were no stripes of crimson, no con- 
stellations bold; 

It was a simpler pattern their aspirations 
told. 

Our woodsbred northern women a simpler 
flag disclose; 

Upon the snowy linen like their New Eng- 
land snows, 

By women's hands embroidered, a single 
pine-tree rose. 

Our woodsbred northern women knew 

naught of warlike things, 
The bloody skill of soldiers, the heavy pomp 

of kings; 
They knew no better music than that the 

pine-tree sings. 



[38] 



THE WOODS 



THE PINE-TREE FLAG (continued) 

Our woodsbred northern women (There 
were no weaklings there) 

Wove not a blood-red banner for sire and 
son to bear — 

But northern snow, and pine-tree, and pur- 
ity, and pray'r. 

Our woodsbred northern women (whose 

men went forth to war) 
Sent them not forth in passion to fight on 

sea and shore 
But with a holy purpose gave up the sons 

they bore. 

Our woodsbred northern women, no more 

against the skies 
Your strange, unwarlike banner in cause or 

conflict flies; 
But we see your souls courageous in your 

children's children's eyes. 



[39] 



THE WOODS 



A 



INSPIRATION 

POET sang of human things, 

Of gorgeous queens and mighty kings, 

And gems that glisten; 
He praised the brassy front of show, 
The ruby's fire and diamond's glow, 

Yet none would listen. 

He wove him many labored rimes 
Of ended days and coming times, 

Of deeds that stirred him; 
He wrote of pomp and circumstance, 
The flap of flag, the light of lance. 

But no one heard him. 

And thus he learned to know the pain 
Of him who sings but sings in vain 

To ears averted, 
Like one who wakes his sweetest tone 
To unresponsive walls of stone 

In halls deserted. 

[4^1 



THE WOODS 



INSPIRATION (continued) 

When all the merry melodies 
He sang his fellow men to please 

Brought none to hear him, 
He turned from splendor and from pelf 
To sing a measure for himself, 

A song to cheer him. 

He wrote a song of long ago — 
A vale where yellow lilies grow 

Beside a river, 
A path that leads the weary feet 
Where meadowland and waters meet 

And rushes quiver. 

He wrote a song of childhood days. 
Of pleasant shade and wooded ways 

And summer quiet — 
A bridge that spanned a gushing rill, 
A humble cot upon a hill. 

With roses by it. 



[41] 



THE WOODS 



INSPIRATION (continued) 

'Twas not the creature of his art, 
This song upwelling from his heart 

In moments lonely; 
With memory his eyes grew dim, 
For then his own soul sang to him, 

The poet only. 

But other mortals heard his tale 
Of woodland path and verdant vale 

To heaven winging, 
And men who scorned his song before 
Sought out the poet's open door 

To hear him singing. 

Thus came to him his mistress Fame, 
Clad in her aureole of flame 

And smile supernal; 
No more a fleeting vision now. 
She placed upon the singer's brow 

The kiss eternal. 



[42] 



THE WOODS 



INSPIRATION (continued) 

And then the poet, fool and sage, 
Turned gently from his written page. 

While bravos thundered, 
And, when he saw the listening throng 
Of those who once had spumed his song. 

He greatly wondered. 



[43] 



THE WOODS 



TO A CAGED BIRD 

T TOICE of the forest, tongue by which it 
^ speaks 

The throbbing gladness of its vernal time, 
No more, no more, your rising pinion seeks 
The heights sublime. 

Voice of the forest, once your gay wings 
beat 
Against the mountain diademed with 
stars ; 
Now do men bid you sing a song as sweet 
To prison bars. 

Only a singer that they, passing, heard 
And then desired, like book and pipe and 
bowl — 

Knowing nor caring when they cage a bird 
They cage a soul. 



[44] 



THE WOODS 



THE CHICKAMAUGA OAK 

QEPTEMBER came with harvest sun, 
^ The alchemist of old, 

Across the fields of green to run 

And turn them into gold. 
But here was neither com nor grain. 

Nor need of alchemist. 
For verdant vale and upland plain 
No busy plow had kissed. 

The men who once had turned the sod 

And scattered here the seed 
O'er other hills and valleys trod 

To serve their dearest creed. 
A hotter sun shone overhead. 

The cannon's sulphur breath ; 
They sowed the seed whose bloom is red 

And final fruit is death. 



[45] 



THE WOODS 



THE CHICKAMAUGA OAK (continued) 

Here stood the Chickamauga oak 

That cool September mom 
And from its night of sleep awoke 

To hear the blare of horn, 
To hear the tramp of marching feet, 

The steady clank of steel, 
The hoofbeats of the horses fleet 

And rumble of the wheel. 

Around it broke the crimson gale, 

Up rose the clouds of war ; 
Down poured the slanted sheets of hail 

On Chickamauga's shore. 
Red lightning flashed from barking gun 

While cannon thundered by, 
And son and sire and sire and son 

Exchanged their battle cry. 



[46] 



THE WOODS 



THE CHICKAMAUGA OAK (continued) 

Above them neutral still it stood, 

The Chickamauga oak, 
Nor questioned whose the purpose good 

And whose the wrongful stroke ; 
And, when the line of battle passed 

Where broke the storm anew. 
Impartially its shade it cast 

On fallen gray and blue. 

The battle long is ended now, 

The fife and drum are still; 
Again the men of Georgia plow 

The fertile field and hill. 
Again the bright September sun 

Turns waving grain to gold 
And still the crystal waters run 

As in the days of old. 



[47] 



THE WOODS 



THE CHICKAMAUGA OAK (continued) 

Still stands the Chickamauga oak — 

But now beneath its shade 
Lie those who parried stroke and stroke 

And wielded blade and blade. 
For north and south, for blue and gray, 

Impartially it grieves, 
And lays on both their graves to-day 

The cerement of its leaves. 



[48] 



THE WOODS 



SUMMERTIME 

'TP'HE leaves upon the alders clapped their 
hands, their little hands — 
An errant breeze had teased them into 
laughter. 
A ray of sun went dancing o'er the lands, 
the fertile lands, 
The perfume of a rose came running 
after. 
The waters of the river caught their 
smile, their cheery smile, 
And rippled joy to ev'ry merry comer. 
A robin fluttered softly to the stile, the 
shady stile. 
And raised his head to sing a song of 
Summer, 



[49] 



THE WOODS 



SUMMERTIME (continued) 

A dainty maid came tripping o'er the grass, 
the springing grass. 
The alder touched her gently on the 
shoulder. 
The zephyr kissed the tresses of the lass, 
the little lass. 
The saucy ray of sun was even bolder. 
The waters came to meet her, lapped her 
feet, her tiny feet. 
The roses threw their perfume all around 
her. 
*Twas then I knew the Summertime, the 
Summertime complete — 
'Tis Summertime forever since I found 
her! 



[50] 



THE WOODS 



CONTRAST 

]VTATURE loves neither silences nor noise. 
She has her silence and she has her 
sound. 
Yet all the melody that she employs 
But serves to make her silence more 
profound. 



The sweeping desert, yellow, bare and 
mute. 
Seems deader for a wheeling vulture's 
scream. 
The single quaver of a lonely lute 

But makes the night seem nearer to a 
dream. 

The sea is silent far from shores unseen, 
Save where a ripple tumbles to abyss ; 

As whitened water makes the green more 
green. 
The day is calmer for the bubble's hiss. 

[50 



THE WOODS 



CONTRAST (continued) 

From such as these I learn the forest's 
charm — 

'Tis not its silence, silent though it be; 
It is its sound unpoisoned with alarm, 

Its whisper like the whisper o£ the sea. 

Shouting nor silence, neither enters here — 

Only the melody of far-off things. 
A drifting cloud makes skies more fair ap- 
pear. 
The wood is stiller for the whir of 
wings. 



[52] 



THE WOODS 



R 



RAIN 

AININ', is it? So it is — 

An' I knew it would. 
When a man has rheumatiz 
In this old left stem of his 
He can tell as good 
When it's go'n' to leak 
As your fancy weatherman 
Down here in Chicago can. 

If he thinks a week. 
An' I guess it's jest because 
Rheumatiz an' Nature's laws 

Sort of work together — 
Lots of moisture in the air, 
Rheumatiz a-plenty there, 
Both mean stormy weather 



[53] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

This left stem of mine can smell 

Water miles away; 
This old stem of mine can tell 
Fifty furlongs from a well 

Where it ought to lay. 

An* I'll tell you why: 
This old stem an' me has tramped, 
Waded, swum an' drove an' camped, 

Never gittin* dry. 
Forty Winters, forty Springs; 
Do you wonder thet she sings 

When she smells the water? 
If you fellahs really knew 
All that laig an' me went through 

Guess you'd think she oughter. 



[54] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

You ain't never had the luck 

Swampin' in the snow; 
None of you ain't never stuck 
To your boot-tops in the muck 

When it's ten below. 

There ain't none of you 
Ever drove the Chippeway 
In the early days of May 

When a norther blew, 
When the river water froze 
In your boots an' in your clo'es — 

Freezin*, thawin', freezin'. 
If this stem of mine finds out 
When there's water 'round about, 

Surely there's a reason. 



[55] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

An', besides, there's quite a line 

Of such signs of rain; 
There is many another sign 
'Ceptin' this old stem of mine 

Thet is just as plain. 

There is bunions yet — 
Fer a corn er bunion is 
'Most as good as rheumatiz 

Prophesyin' wet. 
When you see a cat eat grass, 
When you see the small-mouth bass 

Sendin' up a bubble. 
When you hear a rain-crow caw — = 
It is simply Nature's law 

Indicatin' trouble. 



[56] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

Rainin', is it? So it seems; 

It's a nasty night. 
Yonder how the street lamp gleams! 
Like the light you see in dreams, 

Soft an' far an' white. 

Like the light you see 
When you let life's half-hitch slip. 
When you kind of lose your grip 

On the things thet be. 
An' I sometimes, think the shore 
Thet we all are headin' for 

Looks so far an' ghostly 
'Cause we're lookin' (like to-night 
We are lookin' at the light) 

Through a fog-bank mostly. 



[57] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

How the asphalt pavements shine! 

Almost lookin' clean. 
Ev'ry lamp post makes a line 
Like the shadow of a pine 

On a snowy scene. 

In the gutter nigh 
Little ripples curl an' comb. 
Little dirty rivers foam, 

In an hour to die. 
They are like the stream of life. 
Full of work an' play an' strife, 

Proud with splash an' splutter. 
Each believes himself a flood — 
Most of us is only mud 

Runnin' down a gutter. 



[58] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

Rainin'? Sure enough it is, 

But it ain't the goods; 
Doesn't git right down to biz 
Like the whirling raindrops whiz 

Up there in the woods. 

It's a city shower, 
Like the other kinds of stufE 
In the city, mostly bluff, 

Lastin' fer an hour. 
Up there, when it rains, it rains, 
Fillin' rivers, floodin' plains, 

Down the mountains washin'. 
Up there when a rain we git, 
When we're really through with it. 

Things are jest a-sloshin'. 



[59] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

Fer a rainstorm in the brush 

Is the wettest thing, 
Ground beneath you soft as mush 
An' around you all a hush. 

Not a bird to sing — 

Jest the drippin' slow 
Of the raindrops on the leaves, 
Spillin' from a billion eaves 

On the earth below; 
Jest a blanket in the mire. 
Jest a smudgy kind of fire, 

Weak an' slow an' smoky; 
Breakfast — pancakes simply lead ; 
Dinner — wet an' soggy bread; 

Supper — biscuits soaky. 



[60] 



THE WOODS 



RAIN (continued) 

Rainin', is it? So it is. 

Glad I'm high an' dry. 
When a man has rheumatiz 
In this old left stem of his 

Keep inside, say I. 

Now, this city stuff 
Ain't like woods rain near as wet, 
Ain't like woods rain is, an' yet 

It is wet enough. 
Course the woods rain is the best. 
It is dampest, healthiest. 

Better altogether; 
But I guess I'll stay inside 
Tryin' to be satisfied 

With this city weather. 



[6i] 



THE WOODS 



Y 



DOWN GRADE 

ES, boy, I know — you do not think ; 

You only hear the glasses clink 
And feel the bogus joy of drink. 



Life looks all Summer through a glass ; 
The whisky road is green with grass — 
But life and Summer both will pass. 

It's easy now to drink or not, 

To drink a little or a lot; 

But after all your drinking, what? 

May it not happen ere the grave 

The thing you laugh at you will crave ? — 

The master will become the slave? 

God! I have seen them: Boys like you, 
The frolickers of fighting crew. 
Who never thought and never knew. 



[62] 



THE WOODS 



DOWN GRADE (continued) 

Who took the road that dips and gleams. 
That runs ahead of singing streams 
(Yet somehow never downward seems), 

With this same foolish passion played. 
The same old merry journey made, 
Who took the road of easy grade — 

Till night came on, till sank the sun, 
Till shadows gathered one by one 
Around the path, and day was done. 

'Twas then they turned ; but now the hill 
Was high behind them, and the rill 
Within the valley dark and still — 

Around, the level of the plain; 

Above, a rocky path of pain 

To climb, if they would rise again. 

I am no preacher called to preach; 

I am no teacher fit to teach 

You younger men of better speech. 



THE WOODS 



DOWN GRADE (continued) 

Yet I have walked the merry road 
Where laughing rivers downward flowed. 
And climbed again with all the load,' 

With all the load a man acquires 
Who follows after his desires 
Until he finds his lusts are liars, 

Until he finds, as find he will. 
The peace, the joy, his age to fill 
He left behind him on the hill. 

My preaching is not perfect, Jack; 
Yet truth, at least, it does not lack — 
For I have been there, boy, and back. 



[64] 



THE WOODS 



W 



UNKNOWN 

E deck the grave of him who came back 
home again to sleep ; 

But what of him unknown to fame for 
whom the lonely weep ? 

Yea, what of him in unknown grave un- 
marked by stone or tomb ; 

Shall over him no standard wave, no 
Springtime roses bloom? 

Weep not, dear heart, for him who lies be- 
neath the Georgia pine ; 

He sleeps beneath more tender skies than 
are these skies of thine. 

And blossoms tremble o'er his head as 
gentle and as fair — 

The flowers above the unknown dead his 
God has planted there^ 



[65] 



THE WOODS 



UNKNOWN (continued) 

And when the breeze, the southern breeze, 

the pine above him swings 
Of his beloved northern trees a melody it 

sings — 
Yea, like the roar of waves that sweep 

upon an unseen shore. 
He hears the sighing, in his sleep, of 

cedars by his door. 



[66] 



THE WOODS 



THE IRISH 

T?ER forty-odd year I have followed the tim- 
-^ ber 

From the crooked St. Croix to the rollin* 
Cloquet, 
An' there ain't any camp thet you yaps kin 
remember 
Thet I haven't seen in my lumberin' day. 
I've skidded with roundheads who'd only 
come over, 
With hunyacks I've swamped it fer many 
a mile; 
But the time thet I felt I was livin' in clover 
Was bunkin' with lads from the Emerald 
Isle. 

Fer who was the boys thet was catty an' 
frisky. 
The first on a jam with a peavey in hand? 
Who done the most work an' who drunk the 
most whisky 
An' set us a pace on the water an' land ? 



THE WOODS 



THE IRISH (continued) 

When the timber piled high at the bend in 
the river 
Then who was the fellahs to break it in 
style ? 
Who laughed at the things thet made other 
men shiver? 
The happy-go-luckies from Emerald Isle. 

When it come to a scrap they was quick on 
the trigger; 
To call them a name was to go to the mat. 
They worshiped a woman an* hated a nigger 
An' fought fer a friend at the drop of the 
hat. 
They fought, when they fought, with the 
fists thet God give 'em — 
No knife er no gun is an Irishman's style. 
There never was yet any walkin' boss driv 
'em. 
Not even a boss from the Emerald Isle. 



[68] 



THE WOODS 



THE IRISH (continued) 

A dago was first this America grabbin', 

Who sailed out of Spain with a schooner 
er two. 
It may be Columbus who set in the cabin — 

I'll bet it was Irish thet made up the crew. 
Fer fallin' the timber, er cussin' the cattle, 

Er breakin' a roUway, er drivin' a spile, 
Er ridin' quick water, er winnin' a battle, 

Is fun fer the boys from the Emerald Isle. 

I am old, an* the times an' the people are 
changin' — 
The top-loader now has a derrick to help ; 
The college perfessors the forests are ran- 
gin'; 
The lumberjack now is a different whelp. 
The woods of the North they shall pass into 
story, 
A story we tell with a tear an' a smile — 
But the men who will fill all its pages with 
glory 
Will be mostly the lads from the Emerald 
Isle! 



THE WOODS 



I 



THE PATH 

T winds its way along the shaded hill, 
Disdaining distance, seeking only ease. 

It turns aside to linger by a rill. 

It climbs a slope to rest beneath the trees 
Or breathe the perfume of a Summer breeze. 

Here time is nothing, haste a thing unknown — 
The hot, straight highway for the craze of 
speed ; 
The path is made for them who walk alone, 
Whose God is Nature, and the woods their 

creed. 
To follow blindly where the path may lead. 

No stern surveyor made it thus and so. 

Nor north nor south nor east nor west it 
tends. 

It dips to kiss the pool where lilies grow, 
It rises joyously where ivy bends 
And meets in fond embraces with its friends. 

[7^1 



THE WOODS 



THE PATH (continued) 

Through brooding branches and embroid- 
ered leaves 
The sunshine filters in a golden rain, 
Transforms the tufted weeds to shining 
sheaves, 
The tangled grass to waving harvest grain. 
The marshy muskeg to a purple plain. 

This is a path of velvet from the loom 
Of droning Summer. Never human hand 

Wove such a pattern, bright with rose abloom 
Along its border. Never artist planned 
This brilliant carpet flung across the land. 

Now princes leave their castles, kings their 
thrones. 
And unattended walk these sylvan aisles. 

They pause to muse beside this heap of stones 
More beautiful than all the granite piles 
Reared with slow labor on their ample miles. 



[71] 



THE WOODS 



THE PATH (continued) 

Sweet, solemn splendor of the silent wood. 
More dear you are than all the haunts of 
men; 

For never mortal in your presence stood 
And listened to the whisper of the glen 
But songs forgotten sang to him again. 

Perhaps it is his mother's voice he hears. 
The faint reecho of her cradle croon 

That sends him groping down the ended years 
To find again some long-discarded boon, 
To find again some long-departed June. 

Then, by the magic of the shade and sun. 
Of tree and rose and brook and verdant sod. 

This world shall seem to be that other one 
Where feet walk never, yet where souls have 

trod — 
And he shall hold communion with his God. 



[72] 



THE WOODS 



THE MYSTERY 

TTEARD a rustle in the brush 
-^ Only yesternight ; 
Heard a rustle in the hush, 
Somethin' out of sight — 
Jest a footfall on the ground, 

Shakin' of a tree; 
But we argued all around 
What the thing could be. 

Jack, the stable-boy, he said 

Likely 'twas a colt — 
Farmer's colt thet got its head, 

Broke its halter holt. 
Bill, the cookhouse flunkey, swore 

'Twas a bear er cub 
Huntin' round the cookhouse door 

Fer a snack of grub. 



[73] 



THE WOODS 



THE MYSTERY (continued) 

Pete, who likes to hunt when Fall 

Comes around each year. 
Said it wasn't that at all — 

Thet it was a deer. 
Frank, who drives the two-ox pair, 

Said they made him laff, 
Said their colt er deer er bear 

Simply was a caff. 

So they set an' argufied 

What the thing could be ; 
Ev'ry fellah took a side, 

Had a theory. 
Jack he chinned it with the chaps. 

Bill with all the boys ; 
Mac, who's deef, he said perhaps 

There wasn't any noise. 



[74] 



THE WOODS 



THE MYSTERY (continued) 

What the rustle was about. 

No one ever knew; 
But one fact I figgered out 

From that gabby crew: 
People look with diff' rent eyes, 

Hear with diff 'rent ears; 
That what closest to them lies 

Ev'rything appears. 

Ev'ry nation is the best 

To the man from there, 
Ev'ry state beats all the rest 

When their sons compare. 
Do you wonder at the lot 

Of religious creeds? — 
Each a special God has got 

Fer his special needs. 



[75] 



THE WOODS 



THE MYSTERY (continued) 

Harps an' music fer the gay, 

Huntin' fer the red ; 
Atheists expect to stay 

Permanently dead; 
Streets of sapphire fer the Jew; 

Fer the weary, rest — 
Each, accordin' to his view, 

Thinks his heaven best. 

An' I'm puzzled, I admit. 

Puzzled at the maze — 
Heaven, you kin figger it 

Forty-seven ways: 
Heaven with a street of gold ; 

With a jasper gate ; 
Heaven where the very old 

Still must sit an' wait. 



[76] 



THE WOODS 



THE MYSTERY (continued) 

If there are so many there. 

There beyond the blue, 
Heavens round an' heavens square. 

Gentile, Injun, Jew — 
All thet I can do is trust, 

Since they can't agree. 
When I lay me " dust to dust " 

There'll be one fer me. 



[77] 



THE WOODS 



T 



THE PLAYGROUND 

HE city street, the city street. 

Lies heavy on the town — 
An awful avenue of heat. 
Whose rays of yellow Summer beat 

Upon the stones of brown, 
Where little children's weary feet 

Creep slowly up and down. 

The houses rise, the houses rise. 

Beside the thoroughfare; 
Their windows look with bloodshot eyes 
O'er huddled roofs to smoky skies, 

And find no promise there; 
And childhood's voice of laughter dies 

In pestilential air. 



[78] 



THE WOODS 



THE PLAYGROUND (continued) 

The city great, the city great — 

It is so big a thing ! 
From city gate to city gate, 
From somber dawn to even late. 

It throbs with marketing; 
It has no moment it may wait 

To hear the children sing. 

The little ones, the little ones, 
The buds that never bloom, 

(While underneath the breathless suns 

The stream of life forever runs 
Through arteries of gloom). 

Look on your stately Parthenons 
And find so little room! 

There is a street, another street, 

Beyond the city's wall. 
Beyond the corridors of heat. 
Where waters pure and waters sweet 

In crystal cadence fall — 
And to the children's tiny feet 

Their liquid measures call! 

[79] 



THE WOODS 



THE PLAYGROUND (continued) 

Its tenements, its tenements, 
Are neither grim nor gray; 

And from each verdant eminence 

Their crimson-throated residents 
Pour music to the day. 

Their choristing inhabitants 
Sing loud a roundelay. 

O fairy shores, O merry shores. 
Away from slime and sin ! — 

With leafy roofs and grassy floors. 

Where robin nests and swallow soars 
When Summer days begin — 

Oh, let us open wide the doors 
And ask the children in! 



[80] 



THE WOODS 



I 



THE SWAMPER 

AM the under dog, 

I am the low-down cuss, 

I am the standin' joke, 
I am the easy meat. 
Fellah thet skids the log 

Gits all the fame an' fuss — 

What of the man who broke 
Roads fer the hosses' feet? 

Sing of the arm thet's strong, 
Sing of the saw thet shines. 
Sing of the chopper's might. 
Sing of the boss's brain ; 
Who ever sung your song, 

Swampers among the pines. 
Fellahs who led the fight 

Out in the snow an' rain? 



[8i] 



THE WOODS 



THE SWAMPER (continued) 

We are the pioneers. 

We are the great advance. 

We are the men who break 

Roads with our horny hands. 
Ours not the shouts an' cheers, 
Ours not the singers' chants — 
Ours but a path to make 

Straight through the forest 
lands. 

They who shall come shall reap 
Glory thet we have won, 

They who shall come shall claim 
Praise an' the world's hooray. 
Ours but a trust to keep. 

Ours but a road to run; 

Others shall walk to fame 
After we lead the way. 



[82] 



THE WOODS 



THE SWAMPER (continued) 

So it shall often be, 

So it shall be in life. 

So it shall often seem, 

Seem in the things men do — 
Sung in no history. 

Heard in no tale of strife. 

Oft shall the dreamer dream, 

Fergot when his dream comes 
true. 



[83] 



THE WOODS 



ASHES 

Your remembrances are like imto ashes.— > Job xui:i2. 



T 



HE light of my camp-fire lingers 

When its ribbons no more arise, 
Like the pressure of vanished fingers. 

An echo of ended sighs. 
I gaze on the smouldering embers, 

I look in the heart of the fire, 
And, somehow, my soul remembers 

The thrill of an old desire. 

There is something in embers gleaming. 

There is something in coals aglow. 
That quickens the soul to dreaming 

A dream of the long ago. 
The things of the past awaken — 

A message, a face, a name ; 
There is balm to the soul forsaken 

In the light of a dying flame. 



[84] 



THE WOODS 



ASHES (continued) 

Oh, what are our hopes but ashes? 

Oh, what are our dreams but dust? 
The jewel ^all dim that flashes. 

The glittering sword shall rust. 
Yet the faith of the lonely-hearted, 

The faith of the soul that's true, 
On the ashes of days departed 

Shall kindle the fire anew. 



[85] 



THE WOODS 



SUNRISE 

COME folks run to sunsets, 

Some folks run to noon. 
Some folks like the evenin' best, 

With its stars an' moon. 
Sunsets may be purty. 

Noontime fair to see, 
But the mornin' I like most — 

Sunrise time fer me! 

Some folks like at twilight 

Jest to set an' dream 
Of the day thet's dyin' there 

In the sunset gleam. 
What's the use of cryin' 

Fer the day's mistakes? — 
I'm jest lookin' fer the time 

When the sunrise breaks! 



[86] 



THE WOODS 



SUNRISE (continued) 



An', i£ all the mornin's. 

All the days an' years. 
Bring me nothin' thet I ask, 

Bring me only tears — 
When this life is over. 

When my soul awakes, 
I'll be lookin' to the east 

Where the sunrise breaks! 



[87] 



THE WOODS 



A 



THE WANDERERS 

LITTLE church through dusty trees 

Raised up its wooden spire, 
One of religion's purities 

Amid our mortal mire. 
And one there came to open door 

Made timid by his sin. 
Made timid by the mark he wore. 

And dared not enter in. 

The while he paused he heard a whir — 

Beside him trembled down 
Another outcast wanderer, 

The swallow of the town. 
It fluttered through the open place, 

It mounted to the choir, 
Within the simple house of grace 

Poured forth its notes of fire. 



[88] 



THE WOODS 



THE WANDERERS (continued) 

And he who lonely lingered heard 

And something fell away; 
He followed after singing bird 

Where sinners kneel to pray. 
Yea, there the old remembrance died 

And there the new began; 
For soon they worshipped side by side 
' The swallow and the man. 



[89] 



THE WOODS 



I 



SYLVIA 

T was because the dawn was in her eyes, 

It was because the night was in her hair, 
Because I heard the forest in her sighs, 

I held her fair. 
She came upon me 'neath the huddled eaves, 

She walked beside me in the maze of 
men — 
Her sadness sadness of a wood that grieves. 

Her smile the sun again. 

Her voice was like the whispering of trees, 

Her laughter like the tinkle of a rill ; 
Her cheeks blushed roses, roses such as these 

Upon the hill. 
She was a river in a thirsty land, 

A changeless star in midnight skies to 
shine — 
Her touch, to walk with Nature hand-in- 
hand — 

And she was mine, was mine. 

[9^] 



THE WOODS 



SYLVIA (continuedy 

So leave me in the wood a little while; 

Here where the grass is greenest let me 
lie. 
The sun shall bring me once again her smile, 

The wind her sigh. 
Here only do we seem no more apart, 

In verdant, ways beneath the skies of blue ; 
The stirring earth will seem a beating heart, 

The heart, the heart I knew. 

Once only she could bring the forest near, 

In those old days amid the panting crowd, 
Once only she could make the stars appear 

Beyond the cloud. 
So now the forest that her soul expressed 

To my own soul is her interpreter — 
In ev'ry wind that wanders east or west 

I hear but her, but her! 



[91] 



THE WOODS 



w 



THE IMITATORS 

E build our fronded temples high, 

With arching roof and bended beam, 
We rear our artificial sky 

Where painted constellations gleam; 
We praise the marble majesty 

Our earthly artisans create — 
Yet walk abroad and do not see 

The heavens that we imitate. 



[92] 



THE WOODS 



I 



THE SOUL 

FIGGER the soul of a man is the same 

underneath of a coat er a shirt, 
An' I figger the heart thet pumps life through 

his frame is the same under di'monds er 

dirt. 
Fer his face may be homely an' tough be his 

hide an' busted the bridge of his beak, 
But the Soul of the cuss is a-settin' inside an' 

awaitin' its moment to speak. 

The Soul of the cuss is a-settin' 'way back, 

until maybe the lobster fergits 
There is any such thing as a Soul in the shack 

to take note of his devilish fits. 
But amuck with the gang, on the long mooch 

alone, then it follows his footsteps to see ; 
God knows thet I tell what I know, fer my 

own it has risen an' spoken to me. 



[93] 



THE WOODS 



THE SOUL (continued) 

It has risen an* spoken its speech by the light 

of the flickerin' flame of the fire, 
It has come with its voice where the lamps 

glittered bright on a mob thet was drunk 

with desire. 
Fer I know not the hour thet the visitor 

brings — in the night, in the day, it is 

near; 
It has come when no step stirred the stillness 

of things, it has come when a hundred 

were here. 

An' it knows all the past, ev'ry step of the road 

I have traveled the years thet are gone; 
In the Springtime of youth it was there when 

I sowed in the fields thet was yellow with 

dawn. 
It has followed my trail in the woods an* the 

town, it has stood by my side at the bar, 
It has followed my trail either uphill or down, 

an* has judged of my deeds as they are. 



[94] 



THE WOODS 



THE SOUL (continued) 

So it stood by my side in that old-time affair 

when the night turned to red in my eyes. 
An' it knows jest how much of my story was 

square an' it knows jest how much of it 

lies, 
Fer it saw the blow fall, an' it saw the steel 

shine, an' it saw the thing leap to its 

goal — 
You can fool all the world with a yarn such as 

mine, but you can't tell a lie to your Soul. 

I have spit on the doors of their law-makin' 

shops, I have spit an' have laffed at the 

law; 
I have drunk with their sheriffs an' played 

with their cops, with my life as the stake 

in the draw. 
I have traveled their streets in the glare of the 

sun, while the he-hounds were hot on the 

track — 
I have shaken them all, shaken all but the one, 

but the one thet will never turn back. 



[95] 



THE WOODS 



THE SOUL (continued) 

Fer the world may fergit, er the world may 
not know, er the world it may know an* 
not care. 

But ferever beside me wherever I go still an- 
other walks close who was there. 

Yes, the deed may be done an' the deed may 
be hid, may be hid by the snows an' the 
sod. 

But the thing thet I planned an' the thing thet 
I did one w'itness will whisper to God. 

They know me back home as a man who is 

dead an' who passed in his checks as he 

should. 
An' I answer up here to a new name instead 

thet in every way is as good. 
I have shaken the teeth of the hounds of the 

past, fergotten like all men who die, 
But I know thet my Soul will be there at the 

last — fer my Soul knows thet I am still 

I. 



[96] 



THE WOODS 



I 



LEISURE 

THANK the Lord that I have time 

For things that pay no dividends, 
For song and book and sunset gleam 

And sweet companionship of friends. 
The song may be some simple theme, 

The book some poet's dreamy rime 
For those who dare to pause and dream 

I thank the Lord that I have time. 

I thank the Lord that I have time 

To stop a moment by the way 
To kiss the scented lips of flowers 

And hear the voice of songbirds gay. 
The lark announces morning hours, 

Around my door the roses climb. 
And Nature lures me to her bowers — 

I thank the Lord that I have time. 



[97] 



THE WOODS 



LEISURE (continued) 

I thank the Lord that I have time 

To pause beside some other soul 
Who falters by my poor abode 

Upon the path to greater goal. 
If I can help him on his road. 

Can aid his weary feet to climb. 
If I can ease him of his load, 

I thank the Lord that I have time. 

I thank the Lord that I have time 

For humbler joys and humbler things. 
I thank the Lord for lips that smile, 

I thank the Lord for heart that sings. 
If I in life's uncertain while 

With word or song or cheery rime 
Can light some pilgrim's dreary mile, 

I thank the Lord that I have time. 



[98] 



THE WOODS 



THE SKY PILOT 

Oh, that I had in the wilderness a lodging place of way- 
faring men. — Jeremiah IX :2. 



B 



Y the wall of the busy city. 

In the midst of the market place. 
Ye have lifted on high a temple, 

Ye have builded a house of grace. 
Amber and red the windows. 

Marble and tile the floor — 
But I weep for a thousand pilgrims far 

Who never have seen the door. 

Gorgeous the gilded altar. 

Pleasant the cushioned pew. 
Thrilling the chorused music 

Ringing the cloister through. 
Wonderful thing the sermon. 

Grilling the creeds absurd — 
But I weep for a thousand woodsmen strong 

Who never have known the Word. 



[99] 



THE WOODS 



THE SKY PILOT (continued) 

Build me no mighty temple. 

Build me no jeweled shrine — 
Build me a house of worship 

Under the solemn pine. 
I'll speak from a rough-hewn pulpit 

To men of a rough-hewn race ; 
And, with God's great help, I will bring them 
yet 

With the Master face to face ! 



[lOO] 



THE WOODS 



THE CALL OF THE WOODS 



T 



ALK of your " call of the wild," 
" Nature " an' similar stuff ! 

Talk of " the call 

Of the forest " an* all — 
Haven't I heard it enough? 
Why am I cranky an' riled ? 
What is it ailin' of me? 

What's my complaint? 

Jest " the woods ! " If it ain't. 
What in the world kin it be ? 

Out of the woods it breaks forth — 
Call of the wild in the air. 

What do I hear 

With my listenin' ear? 
Somethin' a-coaxin' me there. 
Wind has swung 'round to the north, 
Sky has a promise of snow, 

Moon on the hill 

It is silver an' chill; 
An' I am longin' to go — 

[loi] 



THE WOODS 



THE CALL OF THE WOODS (continued) 

Breathin* the breath of the pine, 
Walkin' the hayroad again, 

Hearin' old tales 

An' trampin' old trails, 
Bunkin' with men thet are men — 
Men thet are pardners of mine, 
Fighters an* workers an' kings, 

Men who have stood 

By my side in the wood 
At the beginnin' of things. 

Woods? I have lived, man an' boy, 
Up in the woods forty year. 
Driven their streams 
Where the quickwater gleams. 
Fought 'em from store-boom to rear. 
Tasted their pain an' their joy. 
Drunk of their fun an' their woe. 
Sorrow an' song. 
An' it's there I belong — 
Lord, but I'm crazy to go ! 



[102] 



THE WOODS 



BROTHERS AND SONS 

/^N a dirty floor at a slimy bar in the ante- 
room of hell 
I have seen them stand with a devil's leer, 

I have heard the tales they tell — 
I have heard them brag of the brutish 

things, I have heard them boast of 

shame, 
Till I longed again for the Jewish God, for 

the God who smote with flame. 
And I wondered much if there lingered 

still not a dream of boyhood land, 
Not a tender thought of a mother's kiss or 

a touch of sister's hand. 
For we wander far, and the years go by, 

and the boyhood vision fades, 
Yet we are the sons of the mothers of men 

and brother to all the maids. 



[103] 



THE WOODS 



BROTHERS AND SONS (continued) 

And it is not there in the wild alone that 

the souls of men forget; 
In the house of pride, on the polished stair, 

where the gilded ones are met, 
I have heard the tale that is often told on 

the dirty bar-room floor 
While the idle smiled, and the lounger 

laughed, and the bestial asked for 

more. 
For the thing we are is the thing we are, 

not the thing in garments new; 
And the coat that fits is the tailor's coat, 

but the man inside is you. 
It is such as I, it is such as you, that have 

made the jests and jades — 
Yet we are the sons of the mothers of men 

and brother to all the maids. 



[104] 



THE WOODS 



BROTHERS AND SONS (continued) 

Yea, the sons we are of a motherhood, of a 

mother-love, divine, 
And I can not slander this mother yours — 

if I do I slander mine ; 
Yea, the brothers are of a sisterhood of the 

sisters loved or lone. 
And you can not slander the least and say 

that the world shall spare your own. 
For a woman's name and a woman's fame 

they are sweet, and frail, as flowers; 
But the strength to shield and the arm to 

wield for the woman's name are ours. 
Let the God-made man keep his God-made 

trust till his life's last twilight fades — 
For we are the sons of the mothers of men 

and brother to all the maids. 



[105] 



THE WOODS 



T 



THE SNOW IS HERE 

HE snow is here. 

I heard it in the night 

Upon the roof in marshaled measure 
tramp. 
The passing year 

Has changed the world to white 

And set the seal of Winter on the 
camp. 
But yesterday 

A footpath down the hill v 

Touched hands with other roads that 
led afar; 
But now the way 

Is hidden 'neath the chill 

Of diamonded drifts that glisten like 
the star. 
We are shut in 

From ev'ry distant thing, 

That other life amid the world of men, 
From dirt and din. 
Until returning Spring 

Shall find the road and waken us again. 

[io6] 



THE WOODS 



THE SNOW IS HERE (continued) 

The chore-boy now 
His frosted finger blows 

And makes his path from islanded door 
to door; 
Like sturdy prow 
He parts the billowed snows 
And heaps his brands of comfort on 
the floor. 
The fire he plies 

With piles of pitchy pine 

Until the flames roar upward in a gale ; 
And we arise 
To breathe the wintry wine, 

To plunge abroad and icy tasks assail. 
So breaks the day ; 

So comes the arctic dawn 

In this our little world when snow is 
here; 
And so away 

The months shall follow on 
Till softer skies shall mark another 
year. 



[107] 



THE WOODS 



THE SNOW IS HERE (continued) 

The horses stamp 
In clouds of steamy smoke, 

The teamster's voice of mastery await ; 
Their bits they champ 

And shake their leather yoke — 

And life breaks forth where life is 
isolate. 
Now from the wood, 
The timber on the hill. 
Comes stroke of ax and sawyer's steady 
swing ; 
The tree that stood 
Beside the frozen rill 

In powdered snow to earth comes 
thundering. 
Thus passes day 

With shout and merry call, 
With echoed blow and crosscut's 
swishy sweep. 
Until the gray 

Of eve envelopes all 
And drives us back to shelter and to 
sleep. 

[io8] 



THE WOODS 



THE SNOW IS HERE (continued) 

Though this our life, 
A rugged life and plain. 

Of sudden danger and of slow reward, 
The wind a knife, 
A scimitar of pain. 

With death to fight and frosty stream 
to ford. 
Though chill the way. 
Laborious the toil. 

Though rough the fare, the habitation 
rude. 
Though skies be gray. 

Though stubborn be the soil. 

And even day a night of solitude — 
We fondly know. 

We know, in other years 

When we shall look again on sunny 
seas, 
This land of snow 

Shall rise from out our tears 
And dearest seem of all our memories. 



[log] 



THE WOODS 



THE LETTER 

T CAN'T tell you, girl, how I love you — it is 
something the woods never teach; 

I can lie all the night and think of you, but I 
can't put the matter in speech — 

But it's love like the blue skies above you that 
around the whole universe reach. 

It is love that is wide as the arches of stars 

from the east to the west; 
It is love that is long as the marches of sunrise 

to sunset and rest ; 
It is love that is strong as the larches that 

mount to earth's uttermost crest. 

In the woods we are rougher than others you 

know in the parlors of town; 
To the wolf and the wild we are brothers, we 

are kin to the creatures of brown; 
It is long since we crept to our mothers and 

slept on our pillows of down. 

[no] 



THE WOODS 



THE LETTER (continued) 

For we sleep in the huts of the humble and we 
live on a sturdier fare; 

And the music we hear is the rumble of thun- 
ders of earth and of air 

Where the pine and the tamarack tumble and 
the pathway of progress prepare. 

Yet this land is the land of the lover, the place 

for a love such as mine ; 
Oh, sweet is the scent of the clover, but strong 

is the heart of the pine ; 
Love's cup in the town bubbles over, but here 

it is purple as wine. 

We live and we love and we labor up here on 

a mightier scale; 
To the north and the night we are neighbor, 

we are kin of the star and the gale ; 
The lightning it threats with its sabre, the 

northwind it stings with its hail, 



[III] 



THE WOODS 



THE LETTER (continued) 

And the heart of the man is made stronger 

with the strength of the thing that he 

fights. 
And the love of his heart is made longer by the 

length of the loneliest nights — 
For the lover whose heart is a-hunger longs 

most for a lover's delights. 

The fellow away from the city the tricks of 

the city forgets: 
He can't say the thing that is witty, he can't 

breathe his soul in regrets ; 
He can't say the thing that is pretty to please 

the pink ear of coquettes. 

For the bigness of life is about him, the big- 
ness of heaven and star; 

Though the city runs onward without him, 
forgetting the forest afar. 

When he speaks let no cleverness doubt him, 
for he speaks of the things as they are. 



[112] 



THE WOODS 



THE LETTER (continued) 

And this is the love that I bring you, the love 

of the man out-of-doors; 
And this is the song that I sing you, the song 

that the nightingale pours. 
The song that the nightingales fling you from 

eventide's musical shores. 

The shepherd boy carols his meter, and follow 

the feet of his herds; 
The song of the skylark is fleeter because of 

the absence of words; 
Is the language of mortals the sweeter, more 

sweet than the music of birds? 

My lips they may tremble to say it, however 

my pulses may beat; 
The tale that I tell you may weigh it and find 

it a tale incomplete — 
But here is my heart, and I lay it, all voiceless 

and mute, at your feet. 



[113] 



THE WOODS 



THE LETTER (continued) 

I can't tell you, girl, the old story, embellished 

with city-bred lies, 
The tale that a planet grown hoary still hears 

with the olden surprise — 
But the night is all starshine and glory because 

I have looked in your eyes. 

The night is all starshine and splendor up here 

in the tamarack lands ; 
The night is all moonlit and tender because of 

the touch of your hands — 
And your eyes they may widen with wonder, 

but I know that your heart understands. 



[114] 



THE WOODS 



xV 



SUCCESS 

LL night the tank conductor goes 
Along the skidroad through the trees 

An' sprinkles on the crispy snows 
The water thet will fall an' freeze; 

Thus, by the aid of his device. 

Lays down an avenue of ice. 

At mom the busy teams will bump 
Along the way with mighty load 

An' find a passage to the dump 

Along the tank conductor's road — 

Will pile their creakin' bolsters full 

An' brag about the loads they pull. 

There are a lot of us, I guess. 

Who call ourselves " self-made " an* such, 
Who talk about our own success. 

Yet haven't done so very much. 
Fer, ten to one, some other cuss 

Went out an' iced the road fer us. 



[115] 



THE WOODS 



MOONRISE 

T WATCH the fair moon climb the sky 

And walk among the stars, 
As one who walked a garden by 

And met me at the bars — 
And it was you, dear heart, drew nigh. 
And he who waited there was I. 

And I, ere Spring shall set me free, 
Shall look on many moons; 

Yea, I shall look on moon and tree 
And live my dreamy Junes — 

But ev'ry moon that I shall see 

A memory of you will be. 



[ii6] 



THE WOODS 



M 



MY MAN AN^ ME 

Y man an' me fer forty year 

Have hiked it up the hill. 
An' side by side, an' bound an* tied, 

As was our youthful will. 
He come upon me like a dream 

Of all I hoped to be — 
An' so we stood, fer ill er good 

Made one, my man an' me. 

It was a rosy way we went 

When life was in the dawn ; 
I heard the birds, I heard the words 

A young wife feeds upon. 
His arm was 'round about my waist. 

He led me tenderly — 
'Twas long ago we traveled so 

The road, my man an' me. 



[117] 



THE WOODS 



MY MAN AN' ME (continued) 

Though still we travel side by side, 

We travel now apart — 
Fer older wives live lonely lives. 

An' hungry is the heart. 
'Twas long ago I felt the kiss 

In youth he give so free — 
Still side by side, but years divide 

Us two, my man' an' me. 

Yet once he held my hand in his: 

We knelt beside a cross, 
Together knelt, together felt 

An' shared a common loss. 
An' there was four instead of two 

(Er so it seemed to be) 
Yes, there was four — the babe I bore, 

My God, my man an' me. 



[ii8] 



THE WOODS 



MY MAN AN' ME (continued) 

The river yon is covered now 

With Winter's ice an' snow ; 
Upon its breast no lilies rest 

Where lilies used to blow. 
But underneath the Winter's ice 

The waters flow as free 
As in the Spring we heard 'em sing 

Their song, my man an' me. 

So age may sit upon his lips 

An' cool the speech of youth; 
An' yet I know he promised so 

To love, an' spoke the truth. 
The Winter days of life may chill 

The ways of such as we ; 
But 'neath the cold the love of old 

Still warms my man an' me. 



[119] 



THE WOODS 



T 



BACK ON THE JOB 

HIS is the time of the bust-up, 

This is the end of the trail; 
Though your icin' you do, 
Still the ground will come through 

An' your icin' an' cussin' will fail. 
The eaves are a-drippin' at midnight 

An' out of the south comes a sob; 
You kin talk about loss 
All you like, Mister Boss, 

But Spring has got back on the job. 

You kin rave all you like of the timber 

Thet lays in the woods at the stump. 
You kin swear you will haul 
Ev'ry stick of it all 

To the road an' the bank an' the dump, 
But she's got all creation ag'in you. 

The sun an' the wind an' all that. 
An' she'll bust ev'ry road 
An' she'll stall ev'ry load 

An' your timber will stay where it's at. 

[120] 



THE WOODS 



BACK ON THE JOB (continued) 

You ought to know somethin' of woman — 

You've seen her both single an' wed ; 
You know you can't stir 
Any notion in her 

When once it gits into her head. 
But, of all of the contrary women, 

Miss Spring is the worst of the lot ; 
When you want her to freeze 
She will thaw, if you please, 

An' she'll freeze when you're wantin* it 
hot. 

No use to dispute with a heifer 

Er argue a case with a skirt; 
If Spring wants to thaw. 
Neither reason ner law 

Will keep her from doin* you dirt. 
It's will er it's won't with a woman — 

She says when she won't er she will. 
You kin talk till you're black 
In the face, but the shack 

Will be bossed by the petticoats still. 



[121] 



THE WOODS 



BACK ON THE JOB (continued) 

We think we're her lord an' her master, 

She swears she will love an' obey. 
We think we're the head 
Of the house, as she said 

We would be when we bore her away. 
But a month er so after the weddin', 

When honeymoon season is flown. 
She quits sayin' " dear '* 
An' she gits on her ear 

An' she kicks us plumb off of the throne. 

It's likewise up here in the timber : 

We think we are runnin' the thing; 
We're falling the trees 
An' we're makin' it freeze — 

But all of a sudden it's Spring. 
Then it's mix up a walk fer the swampers 

An* can the whole mackinaw mob ; 
No use fer the boss 
Er the crew er the hoss — 

Miss Spring has got back on the job. 



[122] 



THE WOODS 



M 



THE SPORT 

Y boy, it's the end of the season — 

Your campstake you've got in your 
clo'es ; 
It isn't much use fer to reason 

With you, I suppose. 
I know how the dollars are burnin' 

A hole in your pocket right now ; 
You'll blow 'em — what use to be leamin' 

A lumberjack how? 

They're waitin' down there fer you, 
brother : 

The barkeep is loadin' the gin; 
Each guy has some game er another 

Fer takin' you in. 
The dames thet are plastered an' painted 

Are puttin' on powder fer fair — 
The ladies whose kisses are tainted 

Are waitin' you there. 



[123] 



THE WOODS 



THE SPORT (continued) 

I've been through the mill, an' I know it — 

I know jest the fool thet you are ; 
Oh, you'll be a sport, an' you'll throw it 

In gobs on the bar. 
It's "Drinks fer the house!" you'll be 
yellin' ; 

The bums will be there to partake. 
They'll laugh at the stories you're tellin'. 

An' gobble your stake. 

While you have been puUin' a briar, 

With beans an' sow-belly to chew, 
The grafters have set by the fire 

A-waitin' fer you — 
The streak up their backs it is yellah. 

An' life without work is the rule ; 
They'll say you're a prince of a fellah 

An' think you're a fool. 



[124] 



THE WOODS 



THE SPORT (continued) 

So work like a dog in the winter, 

An' act like an ass in the spring ; 
Some guy with a jack-knife an' splinter 

Will say you're a king. 
It's blood, an' it's bone, an' it's muscle. 

You're throwin' up there on the bar ; 
Next week fer a job you kin rustle, 

The fool thet you are. 

Oh, yes, they all think he's the candy, 
A sport, a good fellow, who spends ; 
I hope, when they say you're a dandy. 

You're proud of your friends. 
When you know jest how little there's in 
it. 
Will you hand out your good money 
still? 
When you know they're but friends fer a 
minute? 
You proba'ly will. 



[125] 



THE WOODS 



THE CODE 

VTOUR morals down there in the city 
-■■ Are different morals from ours : 
Both punish, ner pardon ner pity, 

The serpent thet gits in the flow'rs ; 
Both punish, when punishment's comin'. 

An' yet on a different plan : 
You gener'ly brand the woman — 
We gener'ly shoot the man. 



[126] 



THE WOODS 



w 



MEMORIES 

HAT is it most that the soul remembers 

In the long years that come afterwhiles? 
What are the thoughts of the long De- 
cembers 
When white and empty lie snowy miles? 
What is the picture that grows and 
smiles 
Deep in the heart of the glowing embers? 

We dream no dream of the passing pleas- 
ures 
That held us thralls in an idle hour. 
We count no riches in heaping measures 
Nor pulse again with a futile power — 
Nay, a verdant tree or a crimson flower 
Is the jewel then that the memory treas- 
ures. 



[127] 



THE WOODS 



MEMORIES (continued) 

Oh, these are the visions that come long 
after 
When face to face with our own sad 
soul; 
We see a tree in the smoky rafter, 
Behold a rose in the glowing coal ; 
The months of Wintertime backward 
roll 
And the room is filled with the ghost of 
laughter. 

For here is the tree that we knew together 

When the ending year was a Springtime 

young; 

The northman*s pine and the Scotsman's 

heather. 

The Briton's oak where the children 

swung — 
Oh, these are the things by the nfght- 
wind sung 
Above the roar of the wintry weather. 



[128] 



THE WOODS 



MEMORIES (continued) 

For all the year is a time of clover 

While Memory sits by the ingleside, 
And Home goes forth with the world-wide 
rover 
To ev'ry country o'er ev'ry tide ; 
And when the Autumn has drooped and 
died 
We live our Summers, our Summers, over. 

Life has its seasons and life its sorrows. 
When the soul sits dreaming a dream 
like this. 
When the hungry heart from the pale past 
borrows 
A silenced voice or an ended kiss — 
Yea, in our sorrow we find our bliss, 
And weave of Yesterdays our To-mor- 
rows. 



[129] 



THE WOODS 



TO-DAY 

CURE, this world is full of trouble — 
^ I ain't said it ain't. 

Lord! I've had enough, an' double. 

Reason fer complaint. 
Rain an' storm have come to fret me. 

Skies were often gray; 
Thorns an' brambles have beset me 
On the road — but, say, 
Ain't it fine to-day! 

What's the use of always weepin', 

Makin' trouble last? 
What's the use of always keepin* 

Thinkin' of the past? 
Each must have his tribulation. 

Water with his wine. 
Life it ain't no celebration. 

Trouble? I've had mine^ 

But to-day is fine. 



[130] 



THE WOODS 



TO-DAY (continued) 



It's to-day thet I am livin'. 

Not a month ago, 
Havin', losin', takin*, givin'. 

As time wills it so. 
Yesterday a cloud of sorrow 

Fell across the way; 
It may rain again to-morrow, 

It may rain — but, say, 

Ain't it fine to-day ! 



[131] 



THE WOODS 



YOU 

^"p^O each of us must come a day like this one 
"■■ now and then, 

A day when all the mists of old enwrap the 

soul again. 
Last night, a smile upon my lips, I gave 

myself to rest. 
To-day awoke by ancient ill, by hurts of 
old, oppressed. 

I know not why these shadows come, these 

shades of vain desire, 
I do but know they creeping come to sit 

beside the fire; 
And earth is but an empty place, and joy 

has flickered out, 
And faith has fallen by the hand, assassin 

hand, of doubt. 



[132] 



THE WOODS 



YOU (continued) 

I only ask in such an hour, when such shall 

come to me, 
I only ask in such an hour that You are 

there to see, 
I only ask in such an hour I need but 

stretch my hand 
And know that it shall feel the clasp of 

You, who understand. 



[133] 



THE WOODS 



THE CITY 

TN the land that is silent forever, asleep in the 
star and the sun. 
Where noiselessly wanders the river, where 

voiceless the rivulets run. 
Where men are not cultured nor clever, where 
wealth is not wanted nor won, 

Where the world moves in musical measure, 

where aureate daffodils nod. 
Where Nature gives freely her treasure, her 

tree and her bloom and her sod. 
With only an acre of azure to curtain the 

presence of God, 

I have heard in the stillness of slumber, have 
heard in the nearness of night, 

When the tasks of the day that encumber lie 
hard on the sense and the sight, 

A lorelei singing her number, The City her 
song of delight. 

[^34] 



THE WOODS 



THE CITY (continued) 

I have heard, and have come at her calling, 
have followed her glow in the sky, 

I have come where in dirt she was sprawl- 
ing and beckoning men such as I, 

i have come to her creeping and crawling, 
her love and her laughter to buy. 

She has opened her door at my coming, has 
opened her arms at my tread; 

Around her the roses were blooming, the 
passionate roses of red; 

Around her mad music was humming, and 
music the words that she said. 

About me went white arms and slender — for 

such had an Antony died ; 
I gazed on her womanly splendor; I drank of 

her lips, and she sighed; 
I looked in her eyes that were tender, I 

looked in her eyes — and she lied. 



[135] 



m 24 191S 



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